


Jet Wash

by jannah (fromjannah)



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Toby Smith | Tubbo is Not Okay, and neither am i, not actually RPF, papa puffy supremacy, spoilers for march 1st stream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-15 09:29:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29806374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fromjannah/pseuds/jannah
Summary: Puffy comforts a grieving Tubbo.
Relationships: Cara | CaptainPuffy & Toby Smith | Tubbo, No Romantic Relationship(s), Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit
Comments: 4
Kudos: 46





	Jet Wash

**Author's Note:**

> It's been nearly 24 hours and I still haven't processed The Events which means more fic. Title and lyrics at the start come from "The Kids Aren't Alright" by Fall Out Boy, which I had on loop while writing this. 
> 
> If I see anyone attacking CC Tubbo for his reaction last night I will gladly fight you. 
> 
> This is about the DSMP characters. Enjoy.

> _And in the end --_
> 
> _I'd do it all again,_
> 
> _I think you're my best friend._
> 
> _Don't you know that the kids aren't alright?_

Tubbo looks so incredibly empty, Puffy thinks to herself as the young leader answers the door, her hands tightening around the bag she had brought with her. His normally bright eyes are dull, his hair is mussed, and he just seems _empty_ , like whatever made him Tubbo is missing, carved out and burned away. Puffy’s heart aches.

“Hey,” she says, gentle, holding out the bag. “I got you some food from the stand. I wanted to check in on you."

“‘M okay,” Tubbo mumbles, nodding shallowly and taking the bag after a belated pause. “Er, thank you. That’s nice.”

Puffy doesn’t move and only wrings her hands. “You’ve been holding up alright?” 

It’s a stupid thing to ask, of course he can’t be alright, his best friend had died less than a week ago. But Tubbo still nods again. He avoids eye contact, looking down to his bare feet, dressed in an old, worn sweater. “Er, yeah, yeah. Just…” He exhales shortly, grimacing. “Planning the funeral.”

A brief spark of anger lights up in Puffy’s chest -- this _kid,_ only seventeen, is planning a funeral for his best friend. No one should have to do that, least of all young, poor Tubbo. “Do you want some help with that, maybe? You shouldn’t have to do that all by yourself.”

Tubbo shakes his head. “No, no, it’s okay. Ranboo’s helping a bit.” Another kid, god, another _kid,_ but Puffy still sends Ranboo a mental message of gratitude for his support. “I need to… sort it out. I’ve done it once before, anyway.”

“What?” asks Puffy, jaw slackening.

Tubbo, impossibly, laughs once; a broken, quiet thing. “Yeah. Back… back during his exile. Er, I thought Tommy had died.” He pauses, trying to form some more words, and Puffy wishes that she could just hug him, keep him close and guard him until the absolute bastards that were the adults sorted everything out. She could barely imagine the hurt of what Tubbo was going through now, and he was doing it for the second time?

“I think that’s why it doesn’t quite feel real yet,” says Tubbo, voice shaking slightly. He clears his throat and half-smiles to himself, lip quivering. “It’s like -- I saw the message. I heard Sam say it. But I feel like… like he’s hiding up north with Technoblade or just working loads on the hotel. Like he’s going to come out of nowhere and ask us why we’re all so sad. Well, not all of us, I s’pose.”

Puffy cringes at the correction, thinking of Bad and his Eggpire pals fucking _celebrating_ and how much she wants to just slap all of them. She carefully takes one of Tubbo’s hands in her own instead. “You’re grieving,” she says. “That’s okay, it’s normal. It’s a lot to process.” 

Tubbo purses his lips tightly and swallows, nodding a few times more. “Tommy -- “ His voice cracks and Puffy squeezes his hand. Then he laughs again, wet and wry and like it hurts him. “Tommy used to say that the five stages of grief were denial, denial, denial, denial, and bitch. Guess I’m in one of the first four.” 

“Oh, Tubbo,” Puffy whispers, and she does hug him, tight and protecting. Tubbo just melts into the embrace, his short frame beginning to shake with barely restrained sobs. She whispers comfort to him and he only stands there, tears seeping into the front of Puffy’s coat. She doesn’t mind. 

“I feel like it’s my fault, Puffy,” Tubbo mumbles, barely discernible, but clear enough to feel like a punch to Puffy’s jaw. That’s not right, it had been _her_ fault. “If Tommy hadn’t been so _stubborn,_ if he had just let Dream take me -- surely this never would’ve happened.”

“Hey. Tubbo, _hey_ ,” Puffy insists, her tone going firm. She steps back and takes a hand to tip Tubbo’s chin up so that he looks her right in the eyes. “That’s wrong, okay? It’s _not_ your fault. This is not a trading lives thing, this is -- this is people being irresponsible, this is about people who should’ve known more, but those people aren’t _you_. You couldn’t have stopped this. It’s not you lived so -- so Tommy died. It’s not.” 

Tubbo’s blue eyes are watery, a cast-over sky about to rain. It seems as if he will protest but Puffy doesn’t look away, she keeps her jaw set and expression stern. He says, tremulous and weak and only half-convinced: “Yeah. Okay.” 

Puffy knows that she’ll have to say it a hundred more times before he believes it fully, and she’ll gladly be resolute for as long as it’ll take. But for now, she relents and only holds him close. “Good,” she murmurs. “Don’t forget that.”

**Author's Note:**

> God bless Captain Puffy. Here's to impatiently waiting for the Tales from the SMP to help me cope. Thanks for reading.


End file.
